Soldier
by Kurai Hitokiri
Summary: Five years ago Kohaku Shiro fled Forget Valley. After being stranded upon the beach after a vicious attack upon his ship, he returns to face love and the demons of his past. War Torn Love rewritten.
1. Endless Nightmare

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harvest Moon, Natsume, or any of these characters.

**Author's Note:** Kurai Hitokiri's the name, and to some of you… well, you know me. Others who don't here's the info: I used to write in the section when I first started out, now I've grown and I work in the Legend of Zelda Column. I want to revive a story that a few of you know as **War Torn Love** but with my newly enhanced writing skills. Please enjoy.

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**Soldier**

By Kurai Hitokiri

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Chapter 1: Endless Nightmare

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It was a dark and hazy night, the stars covered by a blanket of fog and the moon peeking weakly over the bonds of clouds. A clear coat of freezing wind blew its way across the salty surface of the Mainland's ocean as gulls flew tiredly for a place to rest their heads.

Upon the glittering surface of the water several ships bearing an Insignia of an old Oak Tree tossed about the waves. Within their tiny interiors over seventy men sat wearing identical uniforms composed of a heavy green jacket, pants, and boots of matching colors.

Each man was heavily equipped; knives, guns, and grenades weighing down their tired and war torn bodies. Some moaned in misery, belching vomit of poor rations into their helmets while others prayed feverishly or slept leaning against their comrades.

They were soldiers from the Mainland, drafted out in the recent war only five years earlier. The Federation had laid attack upon their homeland, and due to the shortage of soldiers, young men, no older than fifteen, were being forced to take up arms everyday. One moment they would be smiling, nothing less than the picture of health, the next they would be returning home in a pine box, their bodies horridly decapitated beyond the measure of repair.

Among the many soldiers laying half-dead in a squadron, one sat still next to his comrade, holding a flashlight in a quivering hand as he looked at a torn and bloodstained photo that he had stolen before he left for war. A picture of his Beloved.

The man, however, was no man, but rather in fact a boy. After all, his cheeks were still tinged with the confidence of youth, his cinnamon colored eyes the picture of innocence and gentleness. The hand the held the photo was still as smooth as a baby's cheek and his once beautiful golden hair tarnished by the grime of the battlefield.

The boy thought for a moment before dropping the light to his lap, brow loosening from its squint as he sighed heavily. He turned his eyes upon his friend beside him and gave a melancholy smile. "Kohaku… Do you feel it as I do? …Do you think we're gonna die?"

The man beside the boy shrugged, his face hidden in the shadows of night as one hand came to grasp the flashlight and brought it to illuminate the faces of both.

The features of a thin man were revealed in the flickering light. His hair was a short, chestnut brown that fell in jagged locks about curiously blue eyes. His face, though handsome, was serious and stone cut. This man, unlike the boy, had lost the innocence from his eyes long ago.

"We'll be alright, Denny, just you wait. This is our territory, there's no way the Feds would attack us here," Kohaku whispered.

Denny frowned at his friend, drawing his knees to his chest and resting his chin upon the shelf. "I should know better than to ask you. You're always able to get out of things… you're the infamous 'Demon of the Mainland.' I, on the other hand…"

"Are better than I shall ever hope to be," Kohaku muttered, his vibrant blues dulling with pain.

Denny's eyes widened, looking to his comrade in surprise. Kohaku had always been a role model; a fearless warrior who could take any mission and return home alive, a man who obeyed each and every order without questioning his superiors. How then, was Denny better than the Legendary Kohaku Shiro?

"What are you talking about?" Then again his friend had always acted so mysteriously. Strangely depressed most of the time, it seemed as if his merriment had been sucked from his soul. There was no doubt that at one time he had been gentle and kind, Denny could see it from the way Kohaku's eyes sparkled in the dim light of the morning sun, or whenever he seemed to want to cheer someone up. Perhaps he would finally tell him.

Kohaku was silent, glaring down at the rusty flooring of the tiny vessel they sat captive within. Just as Denny thought he would never speak, the answer came out almost inaudible to the human ear. "You didn't break the heart of someone you love…"

Denny's eyes widened. In love? Kohaku had someone, just like he did? And if it felt horrible to hurt someone so much, then the Lieutenant had five years of guilt built up within him. No wonder such a look of pain seemed permanently emblazoned into his lovely eyes.

"Kohaku-."

Just as the words were to leave Denny's throat, a loud crash shook the boat, sending soldiers reeling in all directions and shouting in alarm. Canons fired, screams sounded, and the boat heaved ever more violently in the ocean's horrid currents.

"What the hell is happening?!"

"It's the Feds, tons of them in their fancy warships!"

"What are we going to do?!"

Kohaku cursed, reaching for a bloodstained knife attached to his belt, rifle slung over his shoulder on a frayed strap. His relaxed persona disappeared; his eyes narrowed in bloodlust, vision blurring, only registering the distant snow white uniforms of the Federation soldiers and the glaring crimson of blood.

He rushed forward, aiming toward the enemy ship and firing at every last Fed within view. This was war, and during war there was only hatred and one objective: kill everyone that wears the enemy uniform without mercy. Emotions were weights, and weakness could not be tolerated upon the battlefield.

As Kohaku rushed along, he never noticed the several Federation soldiers that had taken notice of his superior tactics and were now aiming the barrels of their guns toward him. Three, two, one…

"Argh!"

Warm blood gushed from the wounds that had been inflicted upon the seemingly invincible 'Demon of the Mainland.' The bullets had entered into all parts of his torso, flesh hanging limply from his arms and legs, milky white bone showing through Kohaku's cheap armor. The once faint, iron smelling stench of blood pervaded his nostrils as he struggled to look through the one eye that hadn't been nicked in half by a bullet.

"We're all going to die!!!" someone shouted from within the chaos.

Men fell to the floor grasping empty stumps or crying over their dead comrades. Kohaku looked blearily about for Denny, hoping that his young friend had managed to stay uninjured. That however, was highly unlikely in such a large onslaught.

"Drao'ja civvanat ahuikr, vehecr druca Syehmyht vuumc uvv," one captain said to one of the Federation soldiers with a bloody smile.

"Oac, Lybdyeh." Without another word, the soldier turned to a large canon, pointing it to Kohaku's ship with a horrid smile of glee upon his blood stained face. "Tea, Syehmyht clis."

Without another word, a single round of shots was fired at the ship, rending the tiny vessel to debris within minutes. The Federation soldiers laughed, their job accomplished… or so they thought.

Kohaku had managed to fall from the ship moments before the rounds hit. The salty water stung his cuts, and he was loosing blood rapidly, but at least he was alive.

Pain filled his heart as he looked at the floating remains of his comrades, their faces blank and staring at the peaceful night sky. The clouds had cleared from existence and moonlight shone upon crimson water.

"Denny!" Kohaku shouted, wildly paddling with his good arm to keep himself from drowning. Where was Denny?! He could not have died, he was too young, too innocent… please, he had to be alive!

"…Kohaku…?" The voice was no more but a whisper on the wind's breath, but still loud enough for the Lieutenant to hear with his weakened body.

There, lying upon a large piece of driftwood lay Denny, uniform tattered to shreds and blood leaking from dime sized holes in his chest. His cinnamon orbs looked deeply into Kohaku's as his friend slowly pulled himself aboard the pitiful excuse for a raft.

"Kohaku… it's bad, isn't it?" Denny asked, observing the wounds that his Senior had obtained throughout the battle.

Kohaku stared hopelessly at the profusely bleeding bullet wounds. The wounds were too many to count; no one could survive after being shot by this many. And judging from the amount of blood that poured from the empty holes in the left of his chest, the metal had pierced Denny's frail heart. How could he tell his friend that he was dying?

Denny, seeing the horror in Kohaku's blue eyes, laughed weakly. "It's alright, you don't need to say anything… I… I think I knew that I was going to die… But I didn't think that it would be before I could see her again…"

"Denny, you're going to be alright, all we need to do-."

"You don't need to lie to me, Kohaku," Denny whispered. He shuddered for a few moments, his body heaving with spasms as blood leaked from within his closed lips. "Could you do… something for me, Haku?"

Kohaku blinked back the tears, closing his eyes and grasping the young boy's hand before nodding.

Denny weakly reached a hand into his trouser pocket, bringing out a yellowish, bloodstained letter and placing it within his friend's blood drenched hands. "I know you know who this is… Please, give her that letter for me… I had it just in case this happened… And _please_ let her know how much I love her…"

Denny smiled at his friend before staring toward the heavens. "How beautiful… I never… thought… dying… could be so… peaceful…"

"Lumina…"

The boy's body shuddered violently for a few moments, breathing slowing as his black pupils swallowed his cinnamon eyes. Lids closed slowly, and the corpse seemed to _sigh_ into the wood. Within moments Denny had died.

Kohaku took a few moments to digest what had happened. Denny, his closest and most trusted friend within the military, had died a horrid and cruel death… If only he'd been strong enough to save him… Still, he could keep his promise. That meant there would be no dying now.

The young man bent his head one final time before turning and immersing himself in the icy seawater. His wounds instantly numbed in the cold water, but the dizziness within his mind did not.

A black vortex began to swallow his vision as Kohaku tried to continue on, roughly paddling at the water with the rest of his remaining strength. He was falling asleep against his will, a light was forming before his eyes as more of his lifeblood billowed weakly away from his body in weak plumes.

Just as the darkness swallowed him completely, Kohaku fought futilely against the coma. As his heavy eyes closed he cursed himself, only thinking of the horrid sight of his comrades being slaughtered before him… The promise he made to Denny.

"I… can't… I can't… die…"

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**Author's Notes:** Chapter 1 ends here. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please read and review this story!!!! The Romance shall come in later! Thanks for reading!!!

**Dedicated to my friend Smurf. You asked, I wrote it.**

(The language the Federation speaks is Al Bhed from Final Fantasy X, let it be known that I, Kurai Hitokiri, do not own the language Al Bhed or the game it comes from!!!)


	2. Wounded Soldier

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harvest Moon, Natsume, or any of these characters.

**Author's Note:** It's a lazy weekend, which I am infinately glad for on account of how busy I'm ABOUT to become. Good to be back in the Harvest Moon section... at least for this little bit.

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Chapter 2: Wounded Soldier

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"Take care, Griffin, have a good night, Gustafa."

'Old Man' Takakura stepped from the bar, unsteady on his feet from the little bit of liquor that he had consumed during his time in the bar. He'd never been good at holding his alcohol, and this was certainly an instance that he wished he'd saved his hard earned penny for the arthritis in his knees instead of on the slimy Stone Oil that he loved more than his own hair.

The moon was high in the sky, the stars winking down at the peaceful valley below. A cool wind had begun to whip its way through the crevices between the mountains, making a weak gale begin to blow.

Takakura stumbled, cursing his weakness under his breath. If only he were twenty years younger, what he wouldn't give. Ever since those Federation idiots had declared war upon the Mainland, there wasn't a day that passed in which he didn't wish he could take up arms. Then again, things had plummeted in the Valley ever since Kohaku had left them.

Takakura's weary eyes softened, a tear coming to his grizzly eyes at the thought of the boy who had been almost as dear as a son to him.

He could still remember that day five years ago… Kohaku's bewildered eyes and the mad shaking within the young boy's limbs as he hurriedly threw his things into a suitcase.

_"I can't stay here anymore, Tak! I can't stand it anymore… I'm just a kid!"_

Those words had rung clear in his ear as he stood in the midst of the house that Kohaku had inhabited the past twelve months. The boy was the most energetic, handsome, and promising young man that Takakura had ever had the fortune to meet. He was just like his father in every way. So what drove him away? What made him leave without saying goodbye to everyone… even Celia?

The sound of gulls caught his ear, his befuddled mind now quite a bit more sober than before. Gulls in the midst of the night? They were only around during the day when the fish were out in the shallows, so why were they out now…?

Takakura looked to the beach, his sharp eyes making out the pudgy figures of fat and greedy gulls diving down toward a dark lump in the water. Taking a few more steps, Tak could faintly make out the shape of… a man?! And what was that black cloud spreading about his body?

Despite being still very inebriated, Takakura lurched forward on his booted feet. As he dove headfirst into the water, he felt revitalized and alert. This man needed help, he was bleeding.

Ignoring the kid's face, Takakura grabbed the man into his arms and dragged him forth from the ocean. It wasn't a very difficult feat; the man was lighter than a feather…

Resting the person upon the snow white sand, Takakura took a few moments to access the condition of the mysterious man.

His eyes widened as he noticed the remains of an Oak Tree spreading its roots upon the shoulder of the boy's little remaining clothing. He was a soldier of the Mainland…

Lacerations of all shapes and sizes littered the boy's chest, arms, and legs as small dime sized holes wept blood and brown pus. Milky white bone shone through in all places; the horrible stench of decay violently triggering Takakura's gag reflex.

As he stifled his sickness, Takakura looked upon the man's face.

The man couldn't be any older than twenty three or five, a gaunt and youngish face a credit to the army. Dark brown hair matted with salt, seaweed, and grime shone in the dim moonlight, a horrid cut upon his left eye oozing a green slime.

Then suddenly the puzzle pieces set into place as Takakura stared at the boy for a split second longer. His breath was taken from him, a violent gasp heaving its way from his mouth as his eyes widened in horror.

"Oh my God… _Kohaku!_"

It had hurt Takakura before to see someone that served their country in such a state, but the fact that it was the young farmer that he had loved as a son made the terror course through his veins as potent venom.

Takakura wasted no time in taking the young man in his arms and staggering upward, straining under the now much heavier weight of his friend's body. He stumbled on his feet, tripping ever so slightly as he loosed cries of terror. "HELP!! MY GOD, HELP, PLEASE!! SOMEONE HELP!!"

Wounds that he hadn't thought existed had opened, blood spewing upon his already damp shirt. He needed someone to help him carry the boy or else he would bleed to death before they even reached Hardy.

"Takakura, what's wro- Oh my Goddesses!" Someone in the distance loosed hoarse yell, running toward Takakura at full speed.

Just as Kohaku was about to fall from the old man's steady arms another pair grabbed the burden and slightly eased the weight.

Marlin looked to Takakura, nodding toward Hardy's house then staring down with melancholy eyes at the half-dead soldier. It hadn't taken him very long to piece together who this boy was, he could see and recognize Kohaku quite easily. The farmer was like a brother to him.

The two men started up the long slope, managing to make it to the cobblestone street and to Hardy's house without dropping the precious cargo in their hands. They lay the dying man against the side of the cold stone of the house, Takakura pounding on the door with his blood covered fist.

Lights switched on as another man wrenched open the door, totally bald, a fake eye gleaming in the moonlight as pure black pajamas glinted in the moonlight. A frown of irritation crossed the stranger's grizzly features as he stared at Takakura with a frown.

"What can I do for you, Takakura?" he asked, his voice a deep growl. He was not used to being aroused so late in the night… no, so _early_ in the morning. There had better be a good reason for such a noisy and rude awakening.

"Clear a cot, Hardy. Kohaku's in trouble," Takakura demanded, rushing over to the unconscious man and hefting him up in his arms. Turning to Marlin he nodded toward the farm. "Go get Vesta and Celia. They have a right to know as well."

Marlin nodded, face white with fear and shock; Kohaku was more than just a mere boy to everyone in the valley, he was an invaluable companion and the key to uniting them all. It had torn them to see him go… Celia most of all.

Hardy's single eye widened, hurriedly rushing the young man into the clinic and urging Takakura to place the young man upon the cheap cot within his tiny house. He wasted no time in grabbing a pair of sharp scissors and ripping the grimy clothing in a single layer.

Numerous lacerations and burns revealed themselves, hidden underneath the tattered layers of once durable cloth. They crisscrossed over old scars and strange markings, each oozing a pungent mixture of blood, pus, and clear liquid.

It was all Hardy could do to stare at those cuts without becoming nauseas. He had to be strong and do whatever he could to save Kohaku. This was a matter of loosing a dear friend.

He worked with speed; cleaning each wound, suturing, and splinting things into place. Broken ribs were revealed, eyesight almost gone in one eye, right arm and leg bones shattered under the impact of the bullets. Infection plagued the wounds that littered his body, a high temperature causing a feverish moan to break from the man's lips. Starvation was evident in the gross way his flesh hung from his skeleton, dehydration a consequence of the cruel rations.

Kohaku Shiro was swiftly dying.

The door to the clinic burst open just as Hardy finished wrapping the young man's torso and placing blankets over his cringing form.

Marlin and two women filed into the clinic, each still in their nightwear, coats hastily thrown over the paper thin attire.

The first was maybe in her late forties or early fifties, usually cheerful and harsh features gone from her face. Orange hair tumbled down her shoulders in messy clumps as green eyes filled with tears, a smile worthy mouth creased and resisting heaving sobs. She gently placed a hand to the other woman's shoulder as she looked upon the floor, unable to bear the sight of her friend in such a state.

The other was in her early twenties. She was extraordinarily beautiful, with silvery gray eyes, and features looking as though they were melded under the fingers of a master artist. Her brown hair curtained her saddened eyes, biting her lip as she unsuccessfully stifled a sob within her throat.

"My God…" the first woman gasped, voice quaking with sobs. "When Marlin said Kohaku was hurt… I… I had no idea that he was half-dead…" Her words lapsed into sobs as she fell against Marlin, weeping into his nightshirt as he glared down sadly at the soldier.

"What's the diagnosis, Hardy? Will he be alright…?" the older woman whispered, struggling to contain her tears of grief. Even if the news was not god, she still had to hear it, untainted with the lies of 'he'll be okay.' She knew that Hardy wouldn't withhold the truth from them, a quality she both resented and respected about him.

However, in this matter he was lost. Should he tell them his honest thoughts, especially in front of the woman that loved Kohaku so much? It could end up killing her more than anyone else in the room… still, Hardy felt that Celia had a right to know that the man she loved may not live.

"He's suffering from malnutrition, infection, and dehydration. The salt water managed to clean out the wounds a bit… but it looks like he's lost a lot of blood," Hardy whispered, "He's almost blind in his right eye, it was torn in half by a bullet… At this point, he'll die before the night is over."

"There's got to be something you can do to save him!" the older woman roared as the three other occupants in the room shrunk under the weight of the news. "Take him to the hospital… Perform some type of procedure!"

"If we were to move him we'd aggravate the wounds and he'd start bleeding again. And as for a procedure," Hardy paused a moment, "We could reopen his wounds and cauterize them free of bacteria. The rate of survival is extremely low, the worst that could happen is that bacteria could ravage his wounds and kill him… but it's all I can do."

The silence in the air was stifling, only the faint sobs of young Celia registering within their minds. Should they really do it?

Takakura was the first to speak, looking toward the convulsing form of his closest friend. He tried to take into account what Kohaku would want…

"Do it."

It surprised them to see that the one who spoke was not Takakura, but Marlin.

The young black haired man looked to every person in the room, tightening his arms about Celia. "I know that we must all feel a little hatred for him for leaving without saying goodbye, but we know that we can't let him die… He needs to see that we still care, that we want him to explain everything to us… He wouldn't have left if there wasn't a good reason."

"He means a lot to all of us. That's… that's why we have to take any chance we can, even if the rate of survival is less than 10 or something… We all know that Kohaku will pull through just because he's a Shiro. After all, what would Kinomaru say if he knew we were doubting his only son?"

There was silence in that one moment. A silent agreement came over them, it was mutual between all despite the risk. If this was the only way they could help Kohaku survive then so be it, they would allow it.

As they left Hardy's house that night Celia was the last to leave, stepping forward toward the now drugged body of Kohaku Shiro.

Tears from her gray eyes fell upon his unresponsive figure as she gently pressed her lips to his own. There was no warmth, no life to that kiss. It was cold with the iciness of death, for the one that she had shared it with was only hanging on by a narrow thread of life.

She choked back her sobs, pressing her hand against his fevered face and wishing that he would open his eyes once again. She ghosted in across his scarred, gaunt features for a moment longer before drawing away, starring down at him with hope etched into her eyes.

"I love you…"

Those words were the last Celia said to him that night as she turned and prayed for the man that had left her heartbroken for the past years of her life…


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